My darling Delilah and I…

My love for this tiny girl is so immense, so huge, so over-the-moon I simply cannot put it into words.

This morning, after a night with little sleep because I was so afraid, I took Delilah back to the veterinary ophthalmologist. I took her for the first time early last Wednesday morning after having spent 3 hours in the emergency hospital with her in the middle of the night Tuesday. Thursday and Friday I took her back to get a pain shot in the afternoon as an addendum to the pain meds I had to give her because she still seemed acutely uncomfortable. We made it through the weekend on the pain meds we had along with 3 eye drops, 3 antibiotics, etc. up to 6 times a day. An aggressive treatment plan to try to save the eye and because operating on seniors can be risky. I have adopted 11 pugs in a dozen years, mostly seniors. I have lost 3 on the operating table, one having an eye removed. To say that I was terrified about what could happen with Delilah is an understatement.

I had to take her in early this morning on no food or water in case they had to operate. When the doctor told me that the eye was responding to treatment and she wouldn’t have to operate I nearly broke down and cried. The eye is still very serious, a rigorous treatment plan is still in place and I came home with a bag full of 6 meds but a tiny girl with an eye still intact, if needing a lot of treatment. This is not a quick fix.

We came home, I fed both of the babies after getting them out, administered meds, and sank down in my chair with my coffee and the babies sleeping next to me and felt limp as a dishrag. The news was good, but the journey continues. We are not out of the woods yet.

I had so much I wanted to say today, other things I was going to write about, but nothing matters more than this, nothing, no thing. Here is what I wrote to a dear friend on Facebook who wrote that she understood how much these babies mean to me…

“You know ___ I know you get it, and it means a lot. You know there are people who don’t like or understand that I would rather spend time with my babies than with them. I am agoraphobic, it is painful and nearly impossible for me to easily leave home. There are people who criticize me or think badly of me because I choose my babies over time with them. But THESE are the tiny beings that wake up with me every morning, go to sleep with me every night, and who are inches away from me all day long. And while not official service dogs they honestly serve as unofficial service dogs for me. They are my loves, my life. Some people chose to move away. They are not here to help me when I really need help. It breaks my heart and makes things very hard for me at times, but my babies are here, always, I choose my babies. I make no apologies for this. They are my world, my loves, my life. This. This is what matters. Without a shadow of a doubt. I choose them…”

And so it is.

I know people whose priorities — and I don’t judge, it is not my place to judge and I wouldn’t begin to — are all about traveling, fancy clothes and cars, and eating out, and gourmet food, and more — good for them, I wish them all the best — but these babies, they are everything to me. Nothing, nothing matters more than them.

This, this little girl, and my tiny boy Pugsley, they are everything to me. And tonight she has her eye and is responding to medication. I will cancel anything with no apologies to take care of her. She and he come first. It’s just the way it is. Tonight I don’t have any more to say. I am so tired, but we are here, the little ones and I, and in this moment, all is well.